Like Magic
by PhoenixTears2013
Summary: Carrie works in the Hogwarts kitchens among the house-elves, but dreams of so much more. Venturing out of the kitchen and into the real wizarding world, who knows what magic will await her? Join Carrie in an story containing adventure, magic, and maybe finding love somewhere along the way.
1. Chapter 1

I sighed as I tossed down the dish towel I had used to dry about a thousand plates and goblets. It was hard work, but it's not like I had any other way to do it. Without a wand, I could barely be called a witch, and I certainly wasn't capable of wandless magic, by any means.

"Carrie is tired," Pinky noted. As my house-elf roommate, Pinky was constantly concerned about my welfare. "Can Pinky make Carrie a mug of hot-chocolate?"

"I'm fine, Pinky," I said, slowly walking toward the living quarters just off the kitchen. "Just need a bit of rest, that's all."

Pinky followed me into our shared room. It was small, but we didn't need much, after all. A small set of bunk-beds were in the back corner, with a small nightstand next to it. A line of hooks on the wall held the tea-towel dresses that Pinky wore, and the very simple garments that I was clothed in.

"Pinky noticed that Carrie worked extra-hard today," she said, softly. "Pinky is sorry that Carrie can't do wandless magic like house-elves."

Flopping down on the bed, I nodded. "I'm pretty sorry that I can't as well." I chuckled to myself. "Maybe someday, I'll venture down to Diagon Alley and get myself a wand. Then I'll be able to do all the dishes myself, and you all can focus on the cooking and serving magic."

Pinky laughed. "But Carrie knows that Dumbledore, as kind of a master as he is, won't let Carrie out in the castle, much less into Diagon Alley." She sat next to me on the lower bunk and placed her small hand on mine. "Magic isn't everything, Carrie. There's much more in the world."

"I'm going to head to bed now," I said. "Stay and watch if you like, but we've got to be up early tomorrow." I snuggled down under the sheet on my bunk. It stayed pretty warm in the kitchens, so our quarters were nice and cozy year round.

"Alright, Carrie," Pinky said, laughing. "Pinky will go to bed too. Make sure to wake Pinky up early."

I slipped into a deep, dream-filled sleep that I hardly wanted to rouse myself from. But I could tell that I had overslept by the tugging at my arm.

"Carrie." Pinky yanked at me as she called my name. "Carrie has to get up! Must cook early breakfast today, remember?"

Slithering out of my bed, I changed my dirty clothes for the clean set on the hook next to the bed. Placing my dirty clothes in the hamper on the way to the kitchen, I waved a good-morning to Hunker and Blink, two other house-elf friends.

Blink, being as old as time and blind as a bat, was one of the laundry-elves. He couldn't do sorting very well, but he could fold like a mad-elf when he needed to.

Hunker, on the other hand, was pretty large for a house-elf, and was in charge of carrying large loads of everything where we needed them. Box of a thousand Cornish hens? No problem. Fifteen bags of laundry from the dormitories? Got it covered.

The early breakfast today was for the students, who were involved in full-day exams. As it was nearly the end of the year, they needed to be tested on what they learned over the past year. It took a full day to get through all the exams, so they had to miss out on having lunch. We, the kitchen-elves, made sure that they got a super-filling breakfast, and a very good dinner for their troubles.

I began plate setting for the cooking-elves. When they were finished with the delicious-smelling foods, the transport-elves would magic the food onto the plates I had placed. I would then remove the plates to the four large tables that represented the House tables upstairs. Everything had to be perfectly set.

Sometimes, I would let my mind wander and miss moving a plate or two. But never on a special day like today.

"Carrie can take over my cook-station for a moment," a house-elf asked. "Zinger must use the facilities." The poor house-elf looked as if she were about to burst.

"Sure," I said, unsure of myself. "How soon will you be back."

"Oh, as quickly as Zinger's legs can carry her, Carrie."

I took over the station, hoping it was something simple that I had learned to cook already. Luckily for me, it was scrambled eggs. I simply turned the eggs for a bit, and when they were done, moved them onto the awaiting plates.

As promised, Zinger was back in a flash.

"Oh, Zinger is so thankful," she said, giving a polite bow. "Carrie has done well. Zinger owes Carrie a debt of thanks."

I waved her on. "It's nothing," I said. "If I had to rush to the restroom, I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

The look on Zinger's face seemed less sure of that than I would have liked, but she assured me that I was correct. "Zinger will find a way to thank Carrie properly," she said. "But on a less busy day, of course." She rushed back into the station, filling the pan with dozens of raw eggs, and cooking them up in a flash.

Sighing, I resumed the task of moving plates into place. When we were finished cooking and placing foods on the tables, the students were ready to eat. The transport-elves snapped their fingers, and the plates disappeared from our tables and appeared in front of the hungry students.

As the roar of gasps emitted from the students, I smiled to myself. I would never get tired of the sound. It was all the thanks we got from the people we cooked for every day.


	2. Chapter 2

"Pinky," I said, casually walking up to my roommate. "Do you think we'll ever get to see any of the students? In person, I mean. Not just a glance as we're grabbing the laundry out of their hampers at night."

The small house-elf gasped. "Carrie must not speak to the students," she said. "It's against the rules!"

I nodded. "I know, I know," I said. "But I just wondered… Never mind."

"What did Carrie wonder?" Pinky moved closer, wonder in her eyes.

"I just wondered if any of them realized we were even here," I said. "We cook for them, clean for them, wash their clothes for them, and never get noticed at all." I sighed. "I don't know. I just wonder sometimes. It's silly."

Pinky smiled at me. "Carrie isn't silly at all," she said. "A lot of house-elves wonder when students will notice them. But they never do." She laughed. "Humans, both muggle and wizard, are too busy with themselves to notice anything house-elves do for them."

"I'm not too busy," I said, smiling slightly. "And I'm noticeably human."

She nodded. "But, Carrie is also a house-elf," Pinky said. "Carrie works in the kitchens with house-elves, lives among them, and doesn't complain about her work. Carrie is much like Pinky. House-elf."

I laughed. "I suppose you're right, Pinky."

It wasn't a very busy day, considering the exams that were going on, so I decided to have a little fun. Telling Pinky that I wasn't feeling well, and was going to sleep most of the day, I made a human-enough looking lump on my bunk, and snuck up into the castle.

Here I was, an honorary house-elf, loose in the castle. What would Pinky do if she knew? I laughed to myself and continued down the hall.

Almost immediately, Dumbledore came swooshing down the hallway. He strutted up to me, a kind twinkle in his eye.

"And what are we doing out of the kitchen, little house-elf," he asked, his eyes smiling. "Venturing out on our own?"

I nodded. "I just thought, since the students will be in exams all day, I might explore a little," I said. "I hope you don't mind, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled to himself. "As long as you aren't disturbing anything you shouldn't, I see no problems." He put his arm around my shoulder, as he would have done to any of the students. "You've been working here for a while, haven't you, Carrie?"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I work hard to prove myself among the house-elves, but I enjoy the work."

"Wouldn't you like to be outside, though," he asked. "Maybe have some wizard friends, a wand of your own, attending classes?"

I thought for a moment. "I have thought about that for a long time," I said honestly. "But I don't think I would fit in well with the other students." Looking down at my feet, I softened my speech. "I don't even know if I can do magic."

"Well," Dumbledore said, lifting my chin so he could see into my eyes. "Sixteen isn't too old to try." He smiled at me. "Tomorrow, you will dress in muggle clothes, take this bag of galleons, and go buy your own wand." He dropped a small bag of coins into my hand. "We will see how magical you truly are, Carina."

As suddenly as he had descended upon me, the magical headmaster had disappeared around a corner. I was shocked, not at his generosity, but at his offer of lessons in magic.

I found myself walking straight into the kitchen, without even trying to hide myself from Pinky.

"What is Carrie doing out in the castle," she almost screamed in terror. "What if Carrie had been seen?"

"Dumbledore saw me," I said excitedly. "He has offered me a wand of my own! I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get it." I held out the bag of galleons to her. "See? He gave me money of my own to buy it with."

Pinky was so excited. "Carrie will be a real witch now," she squealed with excitement. Then, realization hit her like a sack of old potatoes. "But… Carrie will have to leave the kitchens, won't she?"

"I… I hadn't thought of that," I said. The thought shook me to my core. I had been working in the kitchens with the house elves since I was eleven years old. My mother had dropped me on the doorstep of Hogwarts, hoping that Dumbledore could make something of me. Instead, he gave me a job and a way to be self-sufficient. "I suppose I will."

"Carrie… will be like the students then… Pinky will lose her friend." Pinky wailed as if she had lost one of her arms. "Carrie must not leave the kitchens! Pinky cannot live without Carrie!"

I pulled Pinky into my arms and held her back from mauling me. "Pinky, I won't end up like the students," I said. "I'll always remember that I came from the kitchens. And besides, I don't even know if I'll be any good at magic."

Pinky calmed down a bit. "Why would Carrie not be good at magic? She is a witch."

"I know," I said. "But if I'm not, I'll be back here in a flash. Promise." I smiled at the house-elf. "And even if I'm amazing at magic, I'll come to visit at night."

"Pinky will hold Carrie to her promise," she said, almost menacingly. "Carrie is Pinky's best friend. If Carrie leaves Hogwarts, Pinky will follow. Wherever she goes."

The loyalty of a house-elf can be quite amazing.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up the next morning a little nervous, but extremely excited. As promised, Dumbledore had placed a set of fitting muggle clothes in my room, which I dressed in. The blue jean fabric seemed so soft against my skin compared to the rough material my work clothes were made of. And the purple cotton top was almost like silk.

Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I put the bag of galleons into my pocket and walked out into the kitchens. Immediately, all the house-elves ran to my side, asking if I required anything.

"It's okay, you guys," I said, laughing. "It's just me."

Pinky's face lit up with a smile. "Carrie looks like one of the students," she said. "Pinky knows Carrie will do well in her classes." She hugged me tightly. "Carrie will bring her wand to show us when she returns?"

"I'll do my best," I said. "I don't know if Dumbledore will let a new student roam around the kitchens."

Rushing back to their duties, some of the kitchen-elves wished me luck in Diagon Alley.

Transportation to Diagon Alley was provided in the form of a Portkey. Dumbledore held the glowing pocketwatch wrapped in a handkerchief.

"You must be ready to return within two hours," he said. "The Portkey will beep when you have one minute left. Be sure to have it in hand soon after the beep, or you will have to find another way back."

I nodded my understanding and took hold of the chain. As Dumbledore let go, I was pulled along through a blur. Landing in Diagon Alley, I almost fell on my face.

"So that's how it feels to travel by Portkey," I said, laughing despite myself. "Alright, Ollivander's… Ollivander's…"

Turning around in circles, I walked around Diagon Alley for a good ten minutes before wandering up to the doors of Ollivander's Wand Shop. A bell dinged as I walked in the door.

"Hello?" There didn't seem to be anyone in the shop. All I could see around me were boxes and boxes and boxes. I assumed they all contained wands.

A loud whoosh came from the back of the store, and an older man flew around a corner on a ladder connected to the wall. "Hello there," he said. "I am Ollivander. You must be Carina." The man smiled at me brightly. "Dumbledore warned me that you would be coming in today."

Jumping down off the ladder, Ollivander came over to me, looking me over well. "I've never given a first wand to a sixteen year old, as I recall," he said, "but I will, as ever, do my best."

"Thank you," I said.

He rummaged around beneath the desk and pulled out a long white box with a blue striped lid. "Try this one for size," he said. "I'll run into the back and see if I can't find a few more for you to try out."

I pulled the lid off the box and gasped at the beauty of the wand. Slowly, I picked it up and swished it around a few times. It seemed like a good fit, length-wise, but nothing happened. When Ollivander came back to the desk, he seemed surprised.

"Usually, if a wand isn't right for you, it shows it right off," he said. "I can't tell you how many times I've had wand avalanches in here." He chuckled. "Here, try this one too."

The green boxed wand was a bit shorter, and it reacted the same as the other wand. Nothing at all happened.

"That is very unusual." Mr. Ollivander looked me over a few more times. "Maybe the core isn't quite right…" He pulled another box off a shelf on the wall. "If this one doesn't do it, I may have to make you a wand special." He laughed. "It's been a long while since I've had to do that."

I pulled the wand out of the blue box with a silver striped lid. Hoping this wand would work for me, I swished it around. But, like the other two, it didn't work at all.

"Maybe I just wasn't meant to be a witch," I sighed.

"If you didn't show potential, Dumbledore wouldn't have sent you here," Ollivander said. "Let me take some measurements, and I'll see what I can do for you. I'll be done quick as I can, but you won't be back in time to take the Portkey Dumbledore sent with you." He smiled. "Don't worry, I'll send him a quick note before I start on your wand."

After measuring my arm length, wrist width, and height, Mr. Ollivander wrote down a few descriptions of the coloring of my hair, eyes, and skin tone. Personality questions were next, and I felt I answered them as honestly as possible.

He shot off a message by owl to Dumbledore and had me sit down in an extremely comfy, yet threadbare chair in his office.

"I'll be back in a jiffy," he said. "I can't show you how I make the wands, or you might try to run me out of business." Ollivander winked to show he was just teasing, and rushed out the door.

I began counting the burn marks on the ceiling, sure that these were proof of wands gone wrong in the past. I had gotten somewhere in the thirties when Ollivander came back in, holding a wand out to me.

"Try this one out," he said. "I hope it works."

I took the wand, trying not to get too attached to the look of it before finding out if it worked for me or not. I swished it around, and to my surprise, the boxes of wands began rearranging themselves on the shelves. Ollivander smiled proudly.

"You, my dear, were a hard fit to make," he said. "I have never used a black unicorn hair as a core before, but now I have." Ollivander patted me on the shoulder. "The wood is spruce, the core is black unicorn tail hair, and it is surprisingly swishy for a twelve-and-a-quarter inch wand. May it serve you well."


	4. Chapter 4

I stepped out of the shop, new wand tucked away in a pocket, wondering if Dumbledore had sent a second form of transportation for me. No sooner than I had wondered, I was surrounded in a flash of red, and being dragged along by an arm on either side of me.

Kicking and screaming, I tried to fight off the two who were dragging me. One laughed as the other was kicked over.

"See, Fred," the one still holding my arm said. "I told you she wouldn't appreciate this."

The boy who had been kicked down had a shoe-print on his face. He rubbed it thoughtfully, and smiled. "I suppose not."

"We should introduce ourselves." The boy released my arm. "I'm George, and this is my brother, Fred," he said. "Dumbledore sent us to fetch you."

"We improvised the dragging you back kicking and screaming bit," Fred said. "Bad idea on my part."

I nodded emphatically. "Very bad idea."

George laughed. "I take it you don't recognize us, then," he asked. "We've only been down to the kitchens a few thousand times after dinner."

I thought for a moment. Had I ever seen students in the kitchens after dinner? Usually, I was tucked away in the corner at a sink, furiously washing dishes. Of course I wouldn't have noticed them. But obviously, they had seen me.

"I don't recall ever seeing you there," I said. "I might work in the kitchen, but I don't know everything that goes on there."

"Well put," Fred replied. "Now, shall we head back to the castle… Uh…"

I smiled. They hadn't asked the house-elves about me, obviously. "Carrie," I said.

"Got a last name there, Carrie," George asked, taking my arm again.

Shrugging, I responded. "Not really sure. I mean, I had a mother, and her last name was Philips," I said. "Never knew anything about my father."

The twins looked at each other for a moment. "So it's just Carrie then," George said. "Sounds good enough for me."

"Carrie's a nickname," I replied. "My first name is Phoenix. Phoenix Carina."

Fred mulled it over for a bit. "Like the constellations?"

I nodded.

"Wicked," the twins said in unison.

We talked about all sorts of things on our walk back to the castle. For a trip that students took every weekend, it seemed like quite a long walk. But anything's better than staying cooped up in the castle doing homework, I supposed.

Arriving at the front gates of Hogwarts, Fred wondered aloud, "I wonder what house she'll be put in."

"I hadn't really thought about that," I said. "Maybe I should go to Dumbledore and ask. Doesn't he assign the houses?"

The boys laughed. "You didn't get out of the kitchen much, did you," George asked.

"Houses are assigned by the Sorting Hat," Fred said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "First years have the hat put on their heads, and he reads their thoughts and personality. When he has a good idea of who they really are, he assigns them a house. Usually, it reflects who they'll end up being."

"For example," George continued. "Slytherins are the future Death Eaters or followers of the Dark Lord. Gryffindors are the heroes and adventurers. Ravenclaws will be the stuffy book authors and brilliant inventors. And nobody's quite sure what Hufflepuffs grow up to be. They're kinda just there."

I laughed. "Thank you for that fabulous description," I said. "Which one do you think I'll end up being?"

Both twins looked me over in turn, and seemed to hold a complete conversation consisting only of short looks and nods. They turned to me in unison and said, "Undecided."

"You've got Hufflepuff written all over you in the way you were a house-elf the past few years," Fred said.

"But you seem intelligent enough to be a Ravenclaw," George continued.

Fred sniffed as he said, "You haven't got a rude bone in your body, so Slytherin's definitely out."

And George finished off their analysis by saying, "You stood up to Dumbledore to be put into classes, so Gryffindor's a possibility."

"Therefore," the two said, "Undecided." They laughed. "Which means,"

"You'll either be a Gryffindor," Fred said.

George leaned over and whispered, "Which we hope you'll be."

"Or a Hufflepuff." Fred gave a grimace. "I'm pretty sure it'll be the latter."

The boys had to rush off, as they were being called to the Common Room for a Quidditch meeting with the team, but promised to show me around the castle when they were finished.

"We'll meet you outside Dumbledore's office, alright," George called as he ran off.

So, alone I made my way to the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I hoped that his Sorting Hat would make a good assessment of me. Wanting horribly to see more of those crazy twins, I hoped that I would be placed in the same house as them. Gryffindor, I supposed, by the way George looked when he whispered that he hoped I would be one.

Arriving at the doorway to the office, I was surprised to find just a statue of an eagle, wings outspread. How in the world was I supposed to find my way into his office now?

"Need to see the Headmaster," a voice called out.

I looked around, and found that the voice was coming from one of the school ghosts, the Grey Lady.

"I do, actually," I said. "Do you know how to get into his office?"

"We ghosts can just walk through the walls," she said, proudly. "But, since you are a mere witch, I suggest you try the password."

If look could re-kill a ghost, the Grey Lady would be dying all over again. "Can you tell me what that is, please," I asked, barely holding in the anger she had caused. "I'm not sure what it is."

"Well, how should I know," the Lady said as she floated off. "I'm just a ghost."

Left in the hallway, seething with rage, I waved my wand at the doorway a thousand different ways, muttering all kinds of crazy combinations of words.


	5. Chapter 5

After about ten minutes of mindless wand-waving and word-shouting, I flung myself against the wall and slid onto the floor. My head rested on my knees so I couldn't see anything. Why did nobody think to give me the password before I left this morning?

A rumble came from the doorway, and the eagle began to spin. Stairs began to form as the eagle seemed to fly upward. Following the path, I ran into the Headmaster halfway up the stairs.

"Oh, Carrie," he said, smiling. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"I've actually been here for a while, sir," I said. "Your password is very hard to guess. I'd say you're well protected in that office of yours."

Dumbledore laughed. "Well, of course I am," he said. "Just a hint for you, I only choose my favorite candies for my passwords." He chuckled to himself. "Nobody knows all of my favorites, so I won't be walked in on during my afternoon desk-naps."

"You're kidding," I said, gasping with laughter. "You take naps on your desk?"

He acted with mock-offense. "Of course I do," he said. "If the students can do it, why can't the teachers?"

We laughed for a while. And he invited me into his office.

"What can I do for you, little house-elf," he asked.

"I wondered if I might be assigned my house today," I said. "Since I have my wand now." I flicked my wand out of my pocket and showed it off to the man.

Dumbledore admired it, as if it were a great treasure. "It is beautiful," he said. "I must send Ollivander my thanks." He handed the wand back to me. "As for your house, I'm afraid the Sorting Hat is out at the moment. But I'm sure I can find some way to sort you, if you insist on having your house today."

"Thank you," I said. "I would appreciate that."

Wandering about his office, Dumbledore pulled all manner of objects out of drawers and off shelves, just to replace them with a sigh. "What can I use as the Sorting Hat today," he muttered to himself. "Ah! This is perfect." He flung a scarf over toward me and said, "Hold this up for me?"

I held the scarf, as he had asked me. The poor thing was threadbare and falling apart, but it looked very warm, and seemed like it had been soft at some point.

Waving his wand, the headmaster muttered an incantation at the scarf. It flew up out of my hands and began glowing. Slowly, the scarf flew back down, and flung itself around my neck. Surprised, I tried to pull at it.

"Leave it be," Dumbledore said. "It is deciding your house."

The scarf seemed to be mumbling to itself. "Courageous… Hard-working… Kind… Loyal to a fault…" It sighed audibly. "Dumbledore, this is hard. How does the Sorting Hat do it all the time?"

"Years of practice," the old wizard laughed. "Just do your best. I'm sure you'll make the right decision."

"Alright," the scarf mumbled. "She has plenty of the qualities of a Hufflepuff, but she's as smart as any Ravenclaw… But she's very brave, and strong-willed."

Dumbledore smiled. "What is your decision, scarf?"

"Give me a minute," it said, exasperated. "You give me this job, and expect me to do it well, then give me time!"

The old headmaster chuckled. "I think she's a bit upset with me," he whispered to me. "But, you'll definitely end up in your proper house this way. She's a bright scarf."

Looking down at the scarf, I realized he was referring to the print. I laughed, which upset the scarf.

"Alright already," she screamed. "Gryffindor!"

Dumbledore took the scarf from around my neck and whispered praises to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Just don't expect me to do it again, alright? One time was enough. I don't want the Sorting Hat's job every time he's out for cleaning."

"I promise, you'll only have to do it in special cases," he said. With a wave of his wand, the scarf went back to the way it was before. Just a threadbare accessory of the past. "Well, are you quite pleased with her decision?"

I nodded. "Very."

He walked over to a large closet and pulled out two black robes with burgundy trim, a few grey sweaters with a Gryffindor crest, one pair of black pants, two black pleated skirts, a burgundy and gold striped tie and matching scarf, and a pair of plain black shoes. "This is your uniform," he said, smiling. "Treat it kindly, and be sure to have it washed when needed."

"I know a couple of laundry-elves that will help me wash it myself," I said. "If I'm still allowed in the kitchens to see them, that is."

A loud roar of laughter came from deep within Dumbledore. "Why would you ever want to go back to the kitchens," he asked.

I smiled politely. "It's where I came from," I said softly. "And I appreciate the friendship of those few elves that I befriended. Is it alright if I visit them from time to time?"

"Be sure that you don't get pulled back into that work," he said, smiling kindly. "Always take one of those Weasley boys with you when you go. Better yet," he grinned, "take both. I know they share my love of the midnight snacks those house-elves can whip up."


	6. Chapter 6

As promised, Fred and George were waiting outside of Dumbledore's office. Well, not so much waiting as staring intensely at each other, trying to exactly mirror one another's movements. It wasn't going entirely as planned, I'm sure.

"What are you two doing?"

The two looked at me, twin looks of terror upon their faces, turned slightly back at each other, and sighed.

"Even when we're NOT trying to look like each other, we can't do it right," Fred said.

"What are you talking about, that was a near perfect imitation of George's scared face," I said. "If that was your scared face, I mean."

George smiled. "See, that's the thing," he said. "It was the same, right? We were trying to mirror one another." Grabbing his brother's face, he shoved him toward me. "See, when Fred grimaces, the right side of his lip twitches down." He had one arm wrapped around his brother's head, and the other hand was pointing at his lip. "I was trying to imitate, but in mirror. So, the left side of my lip should twitch down." Finally releasing his brother's head, he put his face very near to mine. "But look!" He grimaced. "See? Exactly the same. Right side twitches down."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you," I asked, patting George on the head.

He sighed. "We're mirror-identical twins. Shouldn't our faces reflect that?"

Fred cracked a smile. "Oi, did you mean for that to happen?"

"What?" George looked at his twin, laughing hysterically at him, in complete confusion. "Did I mean for what to happen? Fred?"

Even I had to laugh. "You made a pun, George."

"I… did?" George thought through exactly what he had said, and began to smile when he realized the pun. "That's odd. I don't remember eating anything funny this morning."

Fred laughed even harder. "It's true. He'd have to have eaten one of our pranks to have that kind of humor." He fell on the floor, holding his stomach, and George began play-kicking at him.

I dragged one twin off the other, and when we all collapsed on the floor in a pile, joined in the laughing. "You guys are heavy," I groaned. One twin was pinning down my feet, and the other was pretty much sitting on my back.

Feeling the evil twin thought-processes, I looked back at the two of them. Matching smirks were on their faces. "You're not ticklish," Fred began.

"Are you," George finished.

I tried my best to wiggle out from under the two of them, but they held fast. "Please don't," I squealed. "I'm REALLY ticklish."

"Well, that's the best answer we've ever gotten," Fred said, laughing. "Let's get her, George."

Somehow, over the course of ten minutes worth of tickling, we managed to find ourselves halfway down the corridor, and right in front of the doorway to the moving staircases.

"Isn't this funny," George said. "Right where we were supposed to be going anyway."

"Good job, Carrie," Fred said, patting me on the back. "Even while being tickled, you know your way around the castle."

I took the compliment, though I knew I had no idea how to get back here if I tried. The boys dragged me up staircase after staircase before realizing, they had no idea to which common room they were supposed to be taking me.

"What house are you in," Fred asked. "We never asked."

I smiled brightly. "Gryffindor."

Fred and George looked at each other with a big smile. "That means we can torture you all day, every day." They each took an arm and led me to the Fat Lady, whose current password was "Licorice fancy," and into the Gryffindor common room.

I had never seen a more comfortable looking room in my life. Everything was decorated in shades of burgundy and gold, which made the room seem even warmer than the roaring fire in the huge fireplace made it feel.

"How do I know which dormitory is mine," I asked. "Will I have been put in one yet?"

"Well, we can always ask if Dumbledore's told anyone about a new roommate," George said. "Can't hurt to try, right?"

For the next twenty minutes, we sat and asked every sixth year girl coming out of or going into the dormitories if she knew of any rooms getting a new girl.

"Alicia," Fred yelled, jumping up. He grabbed her by the shoulders and practically yelled at her. "PLEASE, tell me you've heard SOMETHING about a new girl in sixth year."

Alicia shoved Fred off of her. "Well, besides you just yelling it in my face, a few girls mentioned you two were looking for the new girl or something," she said. "Otherwise, I haven't heard a thing." Going to walk past him, she spotted me. "Oi, is this her?"

George nodded. "Yup, this is Carrie," he said. "We weren't looking for her. We were trying to figure out which dormitory she'll be in."

"Well, come on then, Carrie," Alicia said, pulling me onto my feet. "We can take a more direct approach to this." She pulled me through the door and into the hall of dormitories. "The boys can't come through here. Some enchantment the founders put on all the girl's halls. Boys were too un-trustworthy or something." She giggled. "Alright, last name?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Philips, maybe? It's my mum's last name."

She led me about halfway down the hall, and knocked on the next three doors. "Any of you know of a new girl, last name Philips, moving into any of your dorms?"

"I heard Fred talking to a few girls about somebody new, but I haven't heard a thing," one girl said.

Another mentioned, "If she was moving in here, she'd have to sleep in a window. We're full up."

"Thanks anyway," Alicia said. "You may just have to go back up to Dumbledore's office and ask him where you can move in for the moment. Seems like most of the dormitories will be full."

I thanked Alicia and made my way back down to the common room. For a first day, it wasn't going extremely well.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, did you find your dorm," George asked.

"Make any new friends," Fred added.

I shrugged. "Alicia seemed nice enough," I said. "But none of the girls knew of anybody new, except from you scaring them, Fred."

"Well, they've heard of you now," he said, laughing.

George took my arm. "Let's go. McGonagall might know."

"Who?"

The twins practically gasped in horror. "Dumbledore didn't tell you about the scariest witch of them all," Fred asked.

"She's absolutely terrifying," George said, clutching at me. "At any moment, she could sneak up behind you."

"Like this!" Fred grabbed me from behind and tickled me.

"Stop it!" I laughed. "You're just kidding about that, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't be too sure about that."

We all spun around to see an older woman dressed in velvet robes, standing behind us. "I am Professor McGonagall," she said. "And they seem to have been right about my sneaking up on people. But I am in no way the scariest witch of them all," she said, slapping Fred on the back of the head. "And who might you be, my dear?"

"I'm Carrie, uh, Philips, I suppose," I said.

"You suppose," McGonagall asked. "And why wouldn't you be sure?"

I sighed. Only the thousandth time I've ever had to explain my unsure parentage. "My mother's last name was Philips, but she never signed that as my last name," I said. "In fact, I've never seen my full name written out on anything. She never told me who my father was either. So, I've just been Carrie. Er, Phoenix Carina, actually."

McGonagall sighed. "Well, it will be hard to place you in a dormitory with that," she said. "Most of the girls dormitories are by last name, though a certain few were placed in other rooms by request."

"So, I don't have a room, then," I asked.

The professor laughed. "Well, of course you do, child," she said. "I'll just have to find out a few things from Dumbledore is all." She patted my head. "Stay out of trouble," she said. "Those Weasley boys are always getting into mischief."

As she spun on her heel and took off around a corner, I could have sworn I saw a tabby-striped tail swish around the corner instead of the back of her robes.

"So that's why she's the scariest witch ever," I asked, turning to Fred. "Her magical ability to sneak up on you?" I laughed.

"Laugh all you want right now, Carrie," he said. "It just gets spookier the longer you're exposed to it."

"He's right you know," George replied. "It's just eerie how she does it sometimes."

I sighed. "Well, until I have a room, I have no place to put these." I set my uniform pieces down on the large, overstuffed chair in the corner. With all the tickling and running I had been submitted to, the pieces were unfolded and in all different states of wrinkled. "Thanks for the tickling, you guys," I said, sarcastically.

George took the vests and folded them neatly, picking pieces of dust off them as he did. Fred, on the other hand, took quite an interest in playing with my tie, scarf, and shoes instead of actually helping.

"You know, you could've helped fold my pants, at the very least," I said.

Fred, ever the dirty-minded one, waggled his eyebrows at me. "You sure you wanted them folded?"

"Yes, positive," I said, pushing his face out of mine, and laughing.

"Leave her alone, Fred," George said, chuckling. "You're gonna scare her off, and you need all the friends you can get."

Playing hurt, Fred turned to his brother. "You mean I'm the friendless one?"

"Yes," George said. "All our friends just hang out with you because you're my twin." He laughed good-naturedly.

Fred joined in the laughter. "Alright, alright," he said. "I apologize for my joke, Carrie." He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "But, should you ever need a dirty-minded quip, you know where to look." Waggling his eyebrows again, he backed away and sat on the couch. "Anybody else absolutely STARVING," he asked.

Stacking my clothes on the chair, I replied, "Famished. Shall we head to the kitchens?"

"You read my mind," Fred said, jumping up. "Let's go, all." He took my hand and pulled me toward the portrait-hole.

George trailed behind, grabbing my other hand once we were on the staircases. "What shall we have to eat once we get there," he asked.

I thought for a moment. "A little of everything?"

"This is my kind of girl," Fred said, smiling at me. "A bit of everything!"

We joked and laughed all the way down to the kitchen, and when we got there, another portrait awaited us. This one was a huge painting of a bowl of fruit.

"How do we get in," I asked. "This one doesn't have a person to talk to."

"Just wait," George said. "Watch Fred. He's a master at guessing passwords."

Fred stepped up to the portrait, cleared his throat over-dramatically, took a deep breath… And began tickling the pear on the portrait. The pear giggled as the boy tickled it mercilessly, and the portrait swung open to reveal a door, which opened into the kitchens.

"Thank you, oh master of portraits," I said, stepping through the kitchen door.

"Anything, for the lady," Fred said, dramatically kissing my hand.

I wiped the back of my hand against his shirt, as if he had gotten spit all over it. George laughed at his brother.

A multitude of house-elves descended upon us, asking in a thousand voice round if we required anything. Zinger, the house-elf I had assisted just a day or so ago, recognized me right off. She ran through the crowd, and pulled Pinky to the front, practically shoving her at me.

"Carrie!" Pinky clutched at me as if she was drowning and I was her life preserver. "How did Carrie do in Diagon Alley? Pinky is sure that she will be a good witch."

I hugged the small house-elf, promising to tell her all about it, once we had gotten something to eat.


	8. Chapter 8

Once Fred, George, and I were loaded down with plates of food, we took places at the four large tables in the middle of the kitchen. Pinky sat directly across from me, waiting to hear all about my adventure outside. She looked so cute, chin resting in her palms, elbows on the table, with a dreamy look in her eyes.

"What happened in Diagon Alley," Pinky asked first. "No, Carrie must tell how she got to Diagon Alley first. Pinky must hear the story in order, if you please."

I chuckled inwardly. "Well, Dumbledore sent me to Diagon Alley by way of a pocketwatch Portkey," I began.

Fred smiled. "Best kind of Portkey, those pocketwatches."

Pinky shushed him, and I continued. "When I arrived in Diagon Alley, I just about fell over. Portkey travel is very… Rough the first time, I suppose you'd say." I paused for a moment to see if Fred had anything to add. When he didn't, I started back on my story.

"It took a good ten minutes to even find Mr. Ollivander's shop. And when I did, there didn't seem to be anyone in the store at all," I said. "When I called out to ask if anyone was there, Ollivander came whooshing around the corner on a rolling ladder. I was surprised that none of the wand boxes came tumbling off the shelves, to be honest."

The story continued through the two wands that just didn't seem to work, and the missed Portkey back to Hogwarts.

"And, when my wand was finished, I thanked Mr. Ollivander, payed him for his work, and walked out the doors," I said. "That's when these two showed up."

"Dumbledore sent the Wheezies to get Carrie from the shop," Pinky asked.

I giggled at her pronunciation of their last name. Why was it that none of the house-elves could pronounce "Weasley"?

George smiled as well. "It's a good thing he did too," he said. "If we hadn't come along, Carrie would've had to have walked all the way back to the castle on her own."

"If she could've even found her way, that is," Fred finished.

"I am very grateful for the help that they've given me so far," I said, smiling at the twins. "They helped me back to Hogwarts, showed me the way to get into Gryffindor Tower and the kitchens, and tried to assist me in finding my dormitory." Looking back at Pinky, I could see her eyes twinkling with barely visible tears. "What's wrong, Pinky?"

The house-elf wiped away the tears. "Carrie is a witch now," she said softly. "She won't be visiting us lowly house-elves anymore."

"Nonsense," I said. As we were sitting at the center of what appeared to be Gryffindor's counterpart table, I had to climb over it, promising to clean the entire thing later. I put my arms around my dear house-elf friend. "I'll be coming to visit all the time," I said. "And the Weasleys will as well, won't you, boys?"

"Of course we will," George said.

"As long as you keep up the good cooking, that is," Fred said, kiddingly.

Pinky nodded wildly. "Of course," she said. "House-elves have to keep up good work. They'd find themselves being freed all over the place if they didn't."

I looked at Pinky curiously. "Don't you work here because you want to, Pinky?"

"Of course Pinky does," she said. "But some house-elves is here because their families had belonged to the founders." She sighed. "They refuse the wage Dumbledore offers, and will not be freed."

"So, essentially, Hogwarts is using slave labor in their kitchens," Fred asked, incredulous. "That's ridiculous."

"No, no, no!" Pinky shook her head. "Dumbledore has no slaves," she said. "The house-elves call themselves slaves, but Dumbledore keeps track of their wage for when they decide to be freed." She smiled. "He is a kind master. But doesn't like to be called master."

I laughed. "I remember one time, Zinger called Dumbledore 'master' when he visited the kitchen," I said. "He said he'd rather be called a 'right old git' before 'master' any day."

"That sounds just like the old man," George said. "Always making jokes of things."

"Pinky should be helping to clean up." Pinky cleared away the plates of food that Fred and George had finished off. "Should Pinky put Carrie's things in a bag for her?"

I smiled at my dear friend. "Don't worry about that," I said. "I know where they are."

"No," she said, holding a hand up. "Carrie is a guest tonight. She will not be doing things for herself today." Pinky picked up my plate and arranged its contents nicely in a paper bag for me. After folding the top down neatly, she placed it on the table in front of me. "Now, Carrie needs to head to bed," she said. "If she has classes tomorrow, she won't want to be tired during them."

"Pinky's right," Fred said. "And you haven't even gotten your dormitory assignment yet."

"Merlin's beard," George exclaimed. "McGonagall's gonna have a fit if we don't get you back soon." He grabbed my bag and pushed me toward the door. "Thanks for the snack, Pinky. It was great."

We rushed all the way back to the Gryffindor common room, where McGonagall was waiting for us.

"Well, I didn't expect you to take so long," she said, not entirely upset. "Carrie, you'll be bunking with Alicia Spinnet and her roommates for the time being. Since we are so near to the end of the year, I mean." She gave a sort of half-smile. "Next year, though, we'll have a dormitory prepared for you." Turning to the twins, she waved her hands, shooing them toward the boys dormitories. "Go on to bed now, you two. Carrie and I have things to discuss."

The boys waved goodnight as I walked away with Professor McGonagall toward her office.


	9. Chapter 9

"Carrie, my dear," McGonagall began, "I have discussed things at length with Dumbledore, and we have come to a conclusion about your last name." She rifled around a few pieces of parchment, and stacked them back again. "We know who your father is, dear."

I was shocked. After sixteen years of not knowing, I could finally know what my true last name was?

"Who is he?"

"Well, therein lies the issue," she said, clearing her throat. "You may or may not be pleased with what I have to tell you."

I just stared for a moment. "I have to know," I said, finally. "He's my father, isn't he? You can't choose who your parents are, and you must accept them for what they have been."

McGonagall nodded. "A wise statement," she said. "I think you had better take a look at these first." She handed me an envelope.

Opening it slowly, I saw that, inside, there were photographs. Pulling them out, I saw a young man, probably no more than my age, smiling with his three friends. They were all wearing Gryffindor crests on their robes. "Is this my father," I asked.

"The one there in the middle," McGonagall said, pointing. "Next to the boy with the glasses." She gave a soft smile. "That is Sirius."

"Sirius," I said. A smile flung itself onto my face. "He's named after a constellation as well."

The professor smiled. "Yes. Probably where your mother got the idea for your name. Sirius Orion, and Phoenix Carina." She sighed. "Now, for the more pressing matter. Nobody can know that he is your father."

"But why?"

A handful of newspaper articles showed an aged version of the boy in the pictures, no longer smiling. He was dressed in a prison uniform, holding a number.

"Sirius Black? The murderer?" I looked at her in shock. "This cannot be true."

"It isn't true," she said, matter-of-fact look on her face. "Sirius Black is no murderer. The mousey looking boy in those photographs, Peter. He was the murderer. Well, the reason for the murder, anyway."

I sat and listened to a much shortened version of the story of Harry Potter and the night his parents died. My father had been their secret-keeper, but convinced them to change their secret over to Peter Pettigrew. When the Dark Lord pressed him for information, he cracked. Sirius confronted him publicly, and Peter faked his own death.

"That's horrible," I said. "So… Where is my father now?"

"The only person who knows for sure is Harry Potter himself," McGonagall said. "And he may not be so willing to share that information. You see, Sirius is his godfather, and the last decent family member that the boy has left. Sharing him, even with his own daughter, would be hard for him."

"But, that would make me like family as well," I said. "Wouldn't it?"

The teacher sighed. "Alas, Mr. Potter may not see it that way."

"It just isn't fair," I said, staring down at the pictures of my father. "I'll never know the man I've dreamed about all my life." I traced the profile of his face with my finger, sadly smiling at the image of the young man laughing.

"Perhaps, someday, you will meet him," McGonagall said. "But, for now, these pictures will be enough?"

"Barely," I said softly. "But enough for now." I pushed the photographs back into the envelope, and smiled at the teacher. "Thank you for giving these to me."

She smiled back at me. "Now, as for your dormitory," she changed the subject, "you will be in the upstairs dormitories, in room 8. Alicia will give you a key when you go in. I trust you'll have a pleasant night getting to know your roommates."

Leaving her office, I wandered my way back to Gryffindor Tower, thinking of my father. He wandered these halls, like I was. He had friends in this school, like I hoped I would make. I wondered what he was like. Was he as kind as his school pictures showed him to be, or was he as deranged as the Daily Prophet made him out to be? I was lost in my thoughts when the Weasley twins attacked.

"So, which dormitory will you be in," George asked.

"And what is this," Fred asked, grabbing the envelope from my hands.

I snatched it back from him before he could open it. "That's private," I said, shocked at my own voice. "I'm sorry, Fred. It's just… been a long day." I sighed. "I suppose I'm ready for bed."

"Well, we'll leave you to it then," Fred said, obviously a bit hurt at my yelling at him. "Goodnight."

"Night, Carrie." George trailed behind his brother into the boys dormitory hall.

I shook myself inwardly. I would tell them everything the next day, as way of apologizing for yelling. That way, I wouldn't be the only one with this heavy secret weighing on me all the time.

Walking into my new dormitory, Alicia greeted me on sight with the key McGonagall had promised.

"Lose this, and we'll kill you," she said. The smile on her face said otherwise. "Welcome to the dorm, Carrie." Alicia turned to the other girl in the room. "This is Carrie… I'm not sure what her last name is."

"Black," I said simply. "Carrie Black."

Alicia smiled. "Alright then. Carrie, this is Angelina Johnson. We're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together."

Angelina simply waved and went back to the homework she seemed so interested in.

"Alrighty then," Alicia said. "This'll be your bed, and I already got your uniform from the common room." She smiled brightly. "Didn't want somebody to steal part of it, now did we?"

I laughed. "I'd rather not be without part of my uniform on my first day of classes, you know."

Alicia grinned. "I suppose not." She then launched into a full-on description of everything that had happened in the past school year. Up to, and including the Yule Ball. "Oh, it was so amazing. You should've tasted the food we had."

"Actually, I kind of did," I said. "I'm not a transfer student or anything. This is actually my first year in wizarding classes." I smiled. "I worked in the kitchens."


End file.
